


Flesh and Blood

by Schattengestalt



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattengestalt/pseuds/Schattengestalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple question leads to revelations, that change the relationship of Watson and Holmes forever. HolmesxWatson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short One-Shot about Holmes and Watson of which I thought when I read how Watson used to describe Holmes in the books of ACD.^^ Obviously, writing a smutty (not too smutty) One-Shot is my way of celebrating that I passed an exam at college.*grins* 
> 
>  
> 
> Update: Now edited and improved, thanks to the wonderful **Esbe**. Thank you! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy it! :)

### Flesh and Blood

"Do you really think I am a machine, Watson?" Startled by the question, I looked up from the adventure story, that had held my attention until now. "Whatever do you mean, Holmes?"

 

I marked the page I was on and placed the book aside, before I looked to my friend. The last time I had checked, Holmes had been sitting at his desk, sorting his papers. Now, he was pacing up and down in front of the fireplace, an agitated air surrounding him. He stopped abruptly at my inquiry and I flinched back into my armchair as his cold, grey eyes bore into mine. "You seem to be of the opinion that I'm not human. You keep comparing me with machines and robots, in your tales about our cases. You love to point out that I don't have any emotions, that I'm as cold as a man can be. Why?"

 

I opened my mouth to reply and closed it again as I realized that I didn't really know how to answer. Holmes was right, I had often compared him to a machine, when writting down one of our many adventures. It wasn't a farfetched comparison, since my friend always appeared cold and aloof, when he was working on a case. No matter how badly someone insulted him, Holmes always managed to remain collected. Also, he didn't require any food and barely slept, when he was fixated on solving a mystery. This behaviour had led me to comparing him with a machine in my tales. Of course, I could have pointed out these facts to my friend and he might have accepted my explanation, instead I kept silent. I feared that Holmes would notice - he certainly would - that I didn't tell him the whole truth. Then, he would inquire about my real reasons for calling him a machine and in the end... everything would be ruined. His trust in me; our friendship; everything we had shared together so far would be tainted. So, for fear of Holmes learning about the motivation behind my actions, I kept my mouth closed.

 

"You don't want to tell me." Holmes sounded resigned as he turned around to stare at the flames in the fireplace, only to face me once more, abruptly. This time, I flinched for a complete different reason than before as his eyes met mine. Gone was the coldness in his gaze, instead replaced by hurt and vulnerability, which I had never seen in such a combination in Holmes' expression. "I'm aware that I can appear rather coldhearted to an outsider and I won't pretend that I like emotions clouding my judgment when I'm working on a case, but Watson, tell me," the pleading note in his voice tore at my heartstrings. Holmes had never sounded like that before and I wondered what had brought on this strange mood of his. "Have I ever treated you coldly or with indifference?"

 

I shook my head. At that point, I would have been unable to say anything, even if I had known which words to use. My throat felt much too tight as I watched how Holmes beat himself up about the subject. It would have been fairly easy for me to put his mind at ease and I hated myself for keeping silent as Holmes tore at his hair. "I don't understand it, Watson." His grey eyes regarded me sadly and I wished nothing more than to be allowed to take him in my arms and kiss him until that sadness went away. Exactly for that reason, I remained seated in my armchair, biting the inside of my cheek as I forced myself to keep calm until the storm had blown over. Holmes' moods were mercurial and whatever had brought this one on, I hoped that it would be over soon. It didn' seem like I would have so much luck.

 

"I know that I'm not a perfect flatmate, but I was of the opinion that we get on rather well and that you enjoy my company."

 

"I do, Holmes, I do." My heart would have had to be made of stone, if I had been able to stay silent at this point. It wasn't! My heart ached with every beat in my chest as I took in the forlorn expression on Holmes' face. I couldn't reveal my feelings for him, but at the same time, I couldn't bear to hear him doubting what we had. "You are more than just a flatmate, you are my friend, Holmes."

 

Surprise widened his eyes and I had to swallow against a lump in my throat as his expression morphed into one of disbelief and happiness. How could it be that this brilliant man hadn't realized that we were friends, until now? True, I had called men friends that I had only known for a few weeks - I knew Holmes for almost a year by now - but my announcement of our friendship had nothing to do with the duration of our acquaintance. Holmes had held a special place in my heart since the day we met at St. Bart's. It had taken me some time to realize just how much my friend meant to me, but I hadn't thought that I had masked my feelings so well that Holmes had even doubted our friendship. Nausea rose in me at that thought and I had to swallow hard to prevent dinner from making a reappearance on the rug.

 

"You think of me as a friend and yet you still call me cold and heartless, Watson. It doesn't make any sense."

 

"Holmes," I started, without really knowing what to say, but my friend didn't even give me a chance to finish my sentence. "I have gone through all of our cases, you have documented and you vary between calling me cold, heartless, a machine, a automaton and marble on an average of five times in every tale of yours. Why?"

 

I sighed. 

 

Obviously, Holmes hadn't sorted his papers today, instead he had gone through every story I had ever written about our adventures. Usually, I would have felt honoured that he had invested so much time in my work, but right now I only wished that I had locked the stories away. It was impossible to understand why Holmes had wanted to read my works - since he had mocked me about my attempts at writing more often than I cared to count - but it was obvious that the reading of these stories had brought on his strange mood. "You are calculated and efficient when you work on a case," I offered, since I was certain that I wouldn't be able to end this conversation by remaining silent. "It's true that you appear like a machine when you work on a case, but that doesn't mean that I see you as one. You are my friend, but my readers don't want to read about our friendship, but about your brilliant deductions. I'm sorry if I offended you with anything I wrote."

 

I hoped that this was enough to erase the hurt expression from Holmes' face and to make him go back to one of his experiments, but I wasn't so lucky. The hurt had indeed vanished from his face, but it had been replaced by a different expression, I wasn't able to place as Holmes crossed the room to stand in front of me. I swallowed against my suddenly dry throat as his grey eyes stared down at me. It was only a relief that I wasn't a hotspur anymore, otherwise my body would have already betrayed my excitement - I was always stirred when I was the sole focus of his brilliant mind.

 

Holmes opened his mouth and then furrowed his brow, probably rethinking what he had been about to say. Still, the words that fell from his lips surprised me. "There are some gentlemen that would be offended at how often you mentioned that an especially beautiful member of the female persuasion didn't catch my attention. Some might think you are trying to imply something."

 

A shaky breath escaped past my lips. I grabbed the armrests of the chair, so that Holmes wouldn't notice the trembling of my hands as I met his thoughtful gaze. Until now, I hadn't even realized how often I had mentioned that my friend hadn`' shown interest in some girl or another. A psychologist would probably have told me that this was my way of fuelling my unnatural - from the point of the view of society - affection for him. I wouldn't have been able to argue that point, since I was always relieved when Holmes appeared unaffected by a beautiful lady, even though I knew that it didn't - in any manner - improve my chances. "I'm sorry, Holmes, I didn't..." I wet my lips before I continued. "I didn't mean to imply anything."

 

His grey eyes darkened as he leaned towards me and placed his hands on the armrests, on top of my hands. "What would you do if I told you that you didn't imply anything that's not true?" His eyes were piercing as they bore into mine and I was paralyzed as I stared back at Holmes. We were so close that I could feel his hot breath on my cheek and the warmth that radiated from his body as he leaned over me. If it had been any other man, I would have been sure that he was making advances, but I didn't dare hoping for that with Holmes. Maybe, this was just some kind of test - maybe everything he had said had just been a test - and Holmes wanted to see my reactions. I wouldn't put it past him to have picked up on my interest in him and that he was now trying to find proof of it. Still, the hurt on his face, when he had asked me if I thought of him as heartless being, had been too realistic for the emotion to be faked... hadn't it?

 

My thoughts were interrupted, when a pair of soft lips pressed against mine. Holmes was kissing me! My eyes widened in disbelief as his mouth moved against mine and a shocked gasp escaped my lips, before I could hold it back. The sound was enough to make Holmes snap back up and take a couple of steps away from me.

 

"I'm sorry, my dear chap," Holmes clenched his fists at his side and averted his eyes as he spoke. "I misjudged... If you can, forget it, Watson and if you can't..."

 

All thoughts about possible tests were blown from my mind as I noticed the crack in my friend's voice and I was out of my armchair and across the room, before I had a second to reflect on my actions.

 

"Watson..."

 

I didn't give Holmes the time to finish his sentence as I pressed myself against him and sealed his mouth with my lips. He was surprised - I could tell from the way he tensed at the sudden contact - and I feared that I had made a mistake - a miscalculation and started to pull back. An apology was on the tip of my tongue as Holmes reached for me. His strong, long arms closed around my back and trapped me successfully in their circle, but I didn't think about breaking free for even a second. Feeling his lean - but well muscled - body pressed against mine and his warm breath on my face was all I had ever dreamed of. Well, to tell the truth, my dreams had been a little more explicit than that, but when I dared glancing up in Holmes' eyes - grey and stormy - I realized that even these dreams might come true. It was the last conscious thought I had, before his lips found mine again and I was all too willing to return the kiss.

 

It started out light and gentle, a careful assurance that the attention was welcome on both sides, before it turned deeper and certainly... less gentle. One of my hands grasped Holmes' nape to angle his face for better contact, while I held onto his upper arm with my other hand as the blood rushed through my veins. Its destination was clear and it didn't take me long to notice the growing tightness in my trousers as our kiss progressed. Holmes' tongue was in my mouth - tasting, exploring and probably gauging everything about me - and I pressed even harder against him at that sensation. Neither of us was a hotspur anymore, but obviously no one had bothered to tell that to our bodies, since I felt Holmes' hardness through the layers of fabric as he rubbed against me - just as he had to feel mine.

 

A helpless moan escaped my lips when I moved my hips to find some friction as my manhood strained in my trousers.

 

"Watson!" Holmes broke the kiss with a gasp, but he didn't let go of me or even tried to bring some distance between our bodies. His normally sharp eyes - now clouded with lust and want - met mine and I understood immediately that now wasn't the time for talking. Whatever we had to say to each other, it would have to wait, until... more primal needs were satisfied. My friend must have read the same in my eyes as he brought our lips together in another desperate kiss.

 

Yes, desperation, it was the most adequate description for our feelings as we both fumbled with the buttons of our trousers and drawers. It would have been easier if we had broken the kiss, but neither of us seemed willing to separate and I certainly wouldn't be the one to suggest it. Holmes was the brilliant one here... only that he didn't appear to be ruled by his mind at all, when he freed my erection from my drawers and closed his long fingers around it. He swallowed my moan as I rocked my hips in his grip. I almost forgot why my hands were fumbling with his pants, when he gave my throbbing manhood a long stroke, but I remembered it again, when my finger encountered a wet spot on the fabric of his underwear.

 

Holmes shuddered when I grabbed his erected manhood and he broke the kiss to gasp for breath as I started to stroke him. Our aim was definitely off after we started pleasuring each other like that. My kisses landed on Holmes' jaw and cheek, before I decided on burying my face in the crook of his shoulder as his hand on my erection increased its pace. Holmes panted in my ear as I picked up my speed as well. All my blood had to be concentrated in my groin by now as I came closer and closer to the peak with every stroke of Holmes` hand. My leg - the bad one - started to buckle under the pressure of holding me up and a part of my mind that was still working - a tiny part, I admit - told me that very soon I wouldn't be able to keep upright. Holmes must have realised that as well, since the next second, I found us both sinking down on the rug.

 

We had to let go of each other for a moment as we lay down on our sides, facing each other. The brief interruption didn`t decrease our arousals - as I noticed when I reached for Holmes' erection again - and soon the room was filled with suppressed gasps and moans. I tried to keep my eyes open, fixed on Holmes as his face crumpled in ecstasy as he got closer to his orgasm, but I had to give up on it, when my own climax took me by surprise. All I could do - so as not to scream out loud - was to bite down on Holmes' clothed shoulder as wave after wave of pure pleasure raced through my body. Somehow I managed to give Holmes another few strokes - although not rhythmic anymore - and, a few seconds later, I felt him coming undone in my hand as well.

 

I am unable to say, how long it was, till I regained my breath, but when I opened my eyes, it was to meet Holmes' gentle and thoughtful gaze. I smiled - having the proof of his passion for me sticking to my hand - and inched closer to breathe a chaste kiss on his lips.

 

"My dear Watson," he murmured and Holmes' voice was laced with emotions as he turned on his back and drew me against his side. "I never suspected that you only called me these unflattering names in your stories, in order to prevent me from noticing your true feelings for me."

 

A quiet laugh escaped my lips at that as I propped myself up on my elbow and glanced down at Holmes' relaxed face. Leave it to him to figure out my motives after he had just spent himself. "Actually, it was more to distance myself from my feelings and prevent giving my inclinations away to my readers. You have to agree that that wouldn't have gone over well."

 

Holmes' hand came up to cradle my face, his grey eyes soft and adoring in the gentle light of the flames. "I have to agree with you, my dear boy."

 

I leaned into the contact, turning my face a little to press a kiss in the palm of his hand, before I cradled my head on his shoulder. "I'm just surprised that you weren't able to figure it out sooner, Holmes." I gave his soft cock a playful nudge and heard him chuckle against my ear. "Sometimes, Watson," he whispered. "It's essential to gather some tangible evidence."

 

I didn't need to look up to know that a playful smirk was playing around his lips and I grinned in return. "You certainly have proven beyond any doubt that you are made of flesh and blood, my dearest Holmes." His only answer to that was a kiss - pressed to my forehead - and I was content with just snuggling closer to him and breathing in Holmes' unique scent.

 

I was aware that we couldn't risk lying on the rug for much longer and that we would have to speak in depth about the change in our relationship, but not now. For the next few minutes, I was content with just staying wrapped in Holmes' arms, knowing that I finally was, where I had always longed to be.


End file.
